Changes
by Dallas'Drabbles
Summary: Based on the episode of Monk, "Mr.Monk takes his medicine", in this short fic we're looking into the life of Death The Kid, age 28, six years after his fiance, Soul 'Eater' Evans, was killed on the job.


Fingers tapped impatiently against the yellowed throne arms, golden hues shifting in a nervous manner around the Death Room and both feet tapping onto the ground in time.

They were late.

Two minutes so far.

Almost three.

He said one exactly—No later than one o'clock, and now it was one o'two.

With a deep sigh the Reaper pushed himself up to stand, a hand reaching up to his face to pull off the skull mask he wore over.

After the passing of his father, Lord Death, Kid was in line to take the spot—To which he gladly did, though even so, he didn't run things the same way. He didn't like the 'Lord' title, he felt like he wasn't fit for it, that it was his father's name and his name only, so, he left it at Kid.

It seemed to fit better.

And for the mask, he only wore it on certain occasions, he believed everyone should be known for who they were, not for the mask they hid behind.

So, for the most part, it was left off.

Kid wore the Reaper cloak, of course, though it had some alterations to it within the years—Making it more…Pleasing to himself, fixing tattered pieces and cutting off strings.

It'd been three minutes.

Just _where_ were they?

_Click…Clack…Click…Clack…_

Finally.

Turning around to face the gallow hallway that lead into the room two figures soon appeared—Women, both close to his age, one older and one younger, though. Obviously related, dirty blond and light blond hair, outfits that matched almost perfectly.

The Thompson sisters.

"You two are late."

With an obviously irritated tone Kid straightened up his stance and patted down onto the cloak that was worn over himself, golden hues rolling slightly in displeasure to their lateness.

"We know, we know—Patty got distracted talking with some of the new students and it took me a moment to pull her away, it's only been like three minutes."

Showing her own displeasure with the Reaper's hastiness the sisters foot tapped, an eyebrow arched, and arms crossed over her chest.

"I said meet at one—It was one o'three when you two entered—"

"We _know—_Kid, drop it, what did you want anyway?"

Biting down onto his lower lip he shut himself up for a moment and took a few steps toward the two.

"I just…Wanted to know—How are things? With you two?"

Blinking a few times both the sisters seemed confused—They live with the man for Christ's sake, he could pick anytime for a conversation, and it had to be now?

"Kiddo, we only saw you this morning—Everything's the same."

Patty, the youngest of the two, decided to speak up this time, her slightly childish tone only adding to her whole stature, a small giggle passing her lips before shrugging.

"Yeah, Kid, you alright? Seems a little out of character for you."

Stepping toward the Reaper Liz's eyebrows knit together, blue eyes filling with curiosity to his sudden call in of the two.

It was, odd.

To the steps toward him Kid began to step back himself and clear his throat, fingers twitching by his sides as the he became uncomfortable with the close contact.

Now this, this was becoming all to normal.

"Kid—you need to stop this, we can't even get close to you anymore—We haven't even worked as your death scythe's, it's been _six _damn years, you're Lord Death now, how are the students supposed to trust you when you can't even get near any of them, or even wield your own weapons to protect this city?!"

Raising her voice the pistol didn't even flinch—She was, in all honesty, sick of this. He wasn't Kid anymore—he just, wasn't.

Things were so different.

Cringing back himself, though, the Reaper only stared, lips parted as if to speak—But he didn't, not a word escaped past his lips, at least, not for a few moments.

She was right.

"…I need to go."

Briskly he picked up his feet and moved around the two girls—Ignoring their calls and speech, and soon disappeared from the room.

The heels of his shoes clacked quickly against the cement of the sidewalk, the Meister now breaking into a run as he just kept going, ignoring everything and anything that could stop him or get in his way.

He needed to get home, to get to the Gallow's.

He just needed to.

Within minutes he had arrived, though, that didn't stop his steps as he barged into the manor—He slowed, yes, but still went quickly up the steps and down the hall, only stopping once he was within the safe confines of his room, the door slamming behind his back as his body sunk down onto the floor.

_It's been six damn years._

Six years—Funny, it didn't seem like that, it didn't seem like it'd been six, long years.

It seemed so much longer.

Sitting for a few more moments the Reaper let silence take him in—Silence, the isolation of it, the comfort he gained from the perfectness of silence…

It just wasn't enough.

Slowly, he began to rise to his feet, legs picking themselves up as they headed toward the closed closet doors, hands reaching out as fingers wrapped around the handles, arms pulling the doors back before dropping back down to his sides, golden hues beginning to scan over the shirts and coats that hung on their hooks.

_There it is…_

Gingerly reaching out hands shifted away unpacked clothing that he wore daily—Though, he only took one out.

A black and yellow jacket wrapped up in a plastic coat.

The coat was nothing special—At least it didn't seem that way. It was a normal sweatshirt with a hood, warm of course, a black middle and back with yellow sleeves and a yellow symbol on only one side of the chest. It seemed as if it was owned by someone younger than himself—It was small, now, the coat being done with wearing by the age of seventeen.

Unzipping the plastic coat Kid carefully removed the other and just—Let the plastic drop to the ground, the jacket being clutched in between pale, slender fingers before being clutched to his chest, legs seemingly giving out as he just, let himself drop to the ground.

Ducking his head down into the coat eyes squeezed themselves shut as the Reaper drew in a long inhale through his nose, a soft, content sigh passing back through as the scent of the old garment filled through.

It still smelt like him.

"I…I miss you so much…"

Drawing in a shaky breath the Meister's whole frame began to shake almost as if it was on cue, like this always happened, it was normal.

Which by now, it truly was.

Taking in another breath of the scent fingers clutched tighter into the fabric, teeth beginning to chatter together as shoulders continued to shake.

"Six…Six years—Can you believe that? I can't…It—It seems to much longer…"

Tears rolled down the Reaper's paled cheeks, his heart seeming to be sinking down into his stomach as everything just—Flooded back, the thoughts, the memories, the images.

Just, everything.

"Soul…I don't know what to do—I can't do this…I'm not fit for it, everything's so much more…Difficult…"

Trailing off now he only curled up into himself further, nose burying back down into the coat as tears began to stain the fabric.

He really didn't know what to do—Not a clue.

He needed something…He needed answers, he needed someone there.

He needed Soul back—He needed his fiances, the love of his life, the one who kept him sane.

He needed him more than anything.

But he wasn't there. He wasn't there to hold him together, wasn't there to run his fingers through his striped head of hair and whisper soft words of comfort, wasn't there to be by his side and see him through his duties as Lord Death.

He was just, gone.

And six years later, he still couldn't let him go.


End file.
